


Bitten Tongues

by MaryWollstonecrafty



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Wicked King Spoilers, dear lord forgive me of my sins, the cruel prince - Freeform, the wicked king, why do these murdery losers do this to me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 16:46:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17267750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryWollstonecrafty/pseuds/MaryWollstonecrafty
Summary: Cardan appearing in the doorway of her apartment isn't how Jude pictured their reunion.But there are so many ways to get revenge.





	Bitten Tongues

**Author's Note:**

> I finished The Wicked King a week ago and I'll never emotionally recover. So, idk, sorry for being horny on main because these losers have destroyed me.
> 
> This fic is mostly just smut, but there are some massive Wicked King spoilers so P L E A S E don't read until you've finished the book. I coudn't live with myself if I spoiled THAT ENDING for anyone. 
> 
> If you have read the Wicked King please come to my home and shriek into the night with me.

I wonder how long a human body can survive on stale PopTarts and self hatred.

It is at least four months and three days.

Four long months since I was exiled from Faerie, sleeping on an air mattress on Vivi’s living room floor. Seven seasons of The Office on Netflix and a tangle of hair that hangs too far down my back are all I have to show for my time in the human world.

Last week, Vivi gently suggested I get a job. There was a fencing studio one town over, perhaps they were looking for instructors she offered over Eggos one morning.

I didn’t spit the cardboard-waffle out at her, though I wanted to. “I don’t think so,” is all I said before returning to my air mattress.

Four months. Three days. Each hour here works its way under my skin like a beetle, eating me alive, snipping me apart sinew, by sinew.

I don’t know how I became someone who doesn’t know who she is.

I should have had three months more with him at my command. Instead I have a wedding ring on my finger and a flashing tv screen asking me if I’m still watching.

I am.

I always am.

Vivi left for work two hours ago, dropping Oak off at school on her way. She worries about me when she’s gone all day, but I prefer it here alone. It’s easier to fall to pieces without an audience.

 

10:28 am arrives with three sharp knocks at the door.

 I’m wearing an oversized sweatshirt emblazoned with the letters of a sorority I didn’t belong to, an artifact from one of Vivi’s exes, and a pair of leggings. My too-long hair is in something resembling a braid down my back.

I have enough pride left to not want to answer the door in my current state. I couldn’t care less about looking pretty, but the indignity of it all is hard to bear. It’s probably just a UPS guy anyway.

Three more sharp raps, these even louder than the last. A determined UPS guy.

Three more knocks, staccato and angry. Then, my name.

“Jude.”

Even through the door, even here in this world, I recognize that voice. I would recognize it anywhere, in any world, at the end of everything. The sweet terrible voice that haunts every dream I’ve had for the past 123 days.

I sigh. Close my eyes. Decide whether to feel fear or anger.

I choose anger.

I always choose anger.

I rise from the air mattress and march to the door, stopping at the kitchen to pick up a paring knife.

By the time I make it to the door, he’s said my name twice more. It’s the worst sound I’ve ever heard.

I throw the door open to find him leaning against the doorjamb, as if we are casual friends meeting up for brunch.

He stands a full head above me, I’ve forgotten just how tall he is. His dark curls fall in a riot around his perfect face, he’s not cut it either in these months, it seems. He’s wearing black breeches, a black doublet, and an all too-human leather jacket. And his mouth, that sinful, awful, delicious mouth of his has the audacity to be quirked in a smile at the sight of me.

He sighs, spots the knife, then laughs.

“Wife.” He greets me.

 

I’ve thought of this moment a million times, what I would say to him upon our reunion. I pictured it so many ways, in the throne room perhaps, or the woods by Madoc’s estate, perhaps even on the shores of the sea, salt licking at our faces. I never pictured it here, in an apartment filled with half-empty peanut butter jars and dirty laundry.

I have no words for him, only red-hot blinding rage and the urge to bury my knife in the smooth planes of his stomach.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” He asks coolly.

In my fantasies, I had something clever to say upon our reunion, I had a plan and a weapon in my hand. But here, now, I have nothing except the part of my brain I despise the most screaming _I love you, I love you, I love you._

He stares down at me through thick lashes, and raises his brows. “Do you have nothing to say to me?”

 “I have lots to say, I suspect you don’t want to hear it.” Not clever enough by half, I chastise myself.

 At that moment, our neighbor’s boyfriend exits their apartment from across the hall, and pauses at the sight of Cardan and I.

 “Everything okay?” He calls over.

 “Yes, thank you. Have a good one!” I call.

 I turn my gaze back up to Cardan who has a curious look in his molten eyes.

“You might as well come in.” I sigh.

 

Cardan doesn’t belong on linoleum floors. He looks painfully out of place as he pads into the apartment gingerly, as if he’s afraid he might step in something sticky.

We make it to the living room, but neither of us make a move to sit on the old sofa.

He flicks a glance to my air mattress and to the paused television.

“I don’t understand human culture.” He offers.

The paring knife is still fisted in my right hand. “Did you come here to mock me?”

“Dearest Jude why would I ever do that?” He says my name like he savors the taste. I am thirty seconds away from killing him, my husband, the High King of Elhame. I don’t care. I just want his blood all over this beige carpet.

“You came without a guard.” I observe. “They don’t know you’re here.”

“I am the High King, am I not? I am allowed to do as I please.”

“I should kill you and be done with it.”

He unfolds his arms revealing his broad chest. He nods to the knife in my hand. “If that’s what would make you happy, be done with it.”

I furrow my brow. “When have you ever thought of my happiness?”

No one ever has, not Madoc, not Cardan, not even myself. Maybe Taryn, once upon a time, but not anymore. She’s so besotted with Locke she hasn’t visited me in my exile once.

Cardan swallows, then says, “You know I think of nothing but you.” Like it pains him.

“Why are you here, Cardan?”

“I’m here to bring my wife home.”

 _Wife._ That word again. I hate the way he says it like it’s something precious to him rather than a trick he played on me. I hate the way it sends desire pooling in my belly.

“You’ve never wanted Elfhame to be my home. You’ve made that clear time and time again.”

He shrugs a hand through his ink-black curls. “Would you believe me if I told you I did what I did to protect you. Orlagh was going to kill you.” He cannot lie. He must have believed I was truly in danger; it does nothing to dull the sharpness of my rage.

I roll my eyes at him. “I’ve never needed protecting Cardan. Certainly not from you.”

“Does that not mean I am allowed to try?”

In a flash I drop the paring knife to the floor, and slam my empty fist against his breastbone. “You are not allowed to exile me from my home, you are not allowed to trick me into—“

I cut myself off.

Cardan catches my hand in his, his fingers encircle my wrist. He’s much too close, the heat of him is everywhere. “Trick you into what, Jude?”

_Into loving you._

“Into being your wife.” My voice is barely above a whisper.

He looks exceptionally sad as he shakes his head. “That was not a trick.”

“Then what was it?” I breathe.

“It was what I wanted.” He sighs.

And then his mouth is on mine, all at once gentle and urgent. The sensation of it is so intense, equal parts relief and ecstasy I think I might cry

I shove him away hard, and his long legs tangle in the sheet of my unmade air mattress and he goes falling onto the couch.

 

He looks up at me and almost smiles before thinking better of it. “I missed you.”

“I hate you.”

“Say it again.” I’m standing above him. His mouth is already swollen, hair in disarray.

“I hate you.” My voice breaks.

“You’re out of practice.”

I lean down and kiss him too gently. “At this?”

He shakes his head. “At lying.”

He winds his long arms around my wait and pulls me to the couch down on top of him.

He’s as desperate for this as I am.

He kisses me hard, nothing like the gentleness of before, and I respond by biting his bottom lip.

He grips at my waist with one hand and winds the other in the hair at the nape of my neck. He pulls back hard, exposing my throat to him. There, he bites and sucks, then lavishes licks and kisses on the sore spot. Surely, he can feel the jack rabbit kick of my pulse. I don’t know how I’m going to explain the mark to my sister.

I take the hand that is gripping at his shoulder up to his tangle of dark curls and pull his stupid-beautiful head back so we’re starring at each other. His black eyes are blown out and sparkly. We’re both panting like we’ve been in battle.

“Was it worth it? To know I will never, ever forgive you.” We’re so close I almost bite him.

“Never is an awfully long time." 

"I will be dead before it comes.”

He shakes his head almost imperceptibly “Not if I have anything to do with it.”

I pull his hair just because I can. “You do not own my mortal heart.”

“Jude, I would make a million more mistakes to keep you safe. The knowledge you are safe is what has kept me from throwing myself into the sea these months. Your hatred keeps me warm at night.”

The weight of the confession hangs between us. If I didn’t know Cardan better, I might think he was saying he loved me back.

“I do not get one million lifetimes, I only get this one.” I whisper.

_And I wanted to spend it with you._

“You have all of it to forgive me. I do not intend on leaving your side again.” From him, it sounds like a threat.

 

And then, we’re kissing once more, desperate hungry animals devouring each other after starving too long.

I all but tear the leather jacket from his shoulders, the doublet comes next. He tugs it over his head, like I can’t get him undressed fast enough.

I give myself one moment to examine the smooth planes of his pale chest. How strange it is that he is here on this old plaid couch. How strange it is that someone like Cardan has a heart that beats at all.

He looks at me looking at him and quirks a maddening grin. “Miss me?”

“No.” I lie.

I cover his mouth with mine one more, and our kisses quickly turn frantic.

With confident arms, he flips me over on my back and lays down on top of me. The weight of him, the warmth of his bare chest is so sweet I want to kick him off me, but not as desperately as I want my own shirt off.

“I have too many clothes on.” I snarl at him.

He doesn’t have to be told twice. Quickly, he grasps the bottom of the sweatshirt and pulls it over my head. I’m suddenly grateful I’m wearing a real bra underneath and not a bleach-stained sports bra.

His Faerie hands don’t know what to do with the all too human clasp. I laugh at him and slip a hand behind my own back to undo it. I throw it across the room where it hits the tv.

At the sight of my heavy breasts he lets out a deep sigh, and lowers his head to them. He starts with my right nipple, taking it in his mouth, biting and sucking.

I hate how I’m moaning for him already, how desperate I am for this.

He rolls my left nipple between his pointer finger and thumb, and the feeling is so intense I arch my back under him, I need more

“I want you.” I gasp.

His eyes are dark as he raises them to meet mine. He nods just once and moves his hand from my breast down between my legs.

Over my leggings he teases where I desire him the most, moving his fingers in soft, slow circles.

I grind my hips hard against his hand.

“Patience, wife.” He grins.

“Do not tell me to have patience, you’re the one who made me wait.” I drive my knee to his chest harder than I should.

His dark eyes meet mine, an unmistakable rage and thirst within their depths. "You think I haven't been waiting too?" 

"I don't know, I'd have to ask Nicasia." I spit.

A look of disgust crosses his face. "I haven't touched Nicasia. I haven't touched anyone. I am a married man, after all."

I have no time to think on his puzzling statement. In one smooth motion he pulls off my bottoms and I am naked underneath him. I sit up, reaching for the buckle of his pants, but he shoves me back down to the couch by the shoulder.

“You first.”

Then slowly, agonizingly slowly, he lowers that goddamn, sinful mouth.

He starts gently, tiny teasing licks and sucks around my clit, but I’m so desperate for him, I’m writhing under him in no time.

He pins my hips to the couch with his forearm, and lowers his other hand to my sex. He licks harder, pushing one finger inside of me, then two. The sensation is so intense I can’t control my moaning, even though I hate to give him the satisfaction of knowing how good he makes me feel.

He pumps his fingers in and out, and brings his eyes to mine. “I knew you’d be this wet for me.”

I wind my fingers in his dark curls and pull hard.

“Fuck you.” I gasp.

He enters a third finger, stretching me completely, and begins to lick in tight, concentrated circles around my clit.

My mind goes to static. There is only him, and me, and the crashing waves of pleasure.

I buck my hips, and come so hard on his hand I think I might scream, but my brain is so blank I can’t be sure.

Before I have time to catch my breath, he’s on top of me again, kissing me. I can taste myself on his mouth.

“I’ve been dreaming about that.” He whispers against my lips.

“Fuck me.” Is all I respond.

I don’t have to ask him twice. He shucks off his own pants, revealing just how hard I’ve made him. His tail winds around my calf as he lowers himself back down onto me.

He pauses, looking too deeply into my eyes. We’re both breathing too hard.

“I want you. You’re all I want.” He sighs.

Please fuck me.” I groan.

With one drive of his hips, he buries himself in me deep and complete. I bite my lip so hard it begins to bleed. 

He thrusts again, so big inside of me. I shouldn’t be able to take the intensity, but all I can think is _more, please, more._

He starts slowly but can’t control himself for long, and soon he’s fucking me fast and hard. Pulling at my hair, biting at my neck.

With him on top of me, I can see the look of smug satisfaction on his face at the desperate little noises I’m making.

I bite his shoulder hard enough to leave a mark, and his response is to take his right hand to my throat. He presses down hard. Not hard enough stop me from breathing but hard enough to hurt.

 The pleasure builds once more, and I come a second time, shattering against him, writhing and moaning all the while.

 At the sight of me coming underneath him, something in Cardan’s steady gaze breaks.

 He gasps me name just once. “Jude.” And then I can feel him spilling, hot and wet inside of me.

 He collapses on top of me, slick with sweat, and panting.

 After what feels like a long while, he rolls to the side, so my head is on his chest and we’re pressed together.

 “It was about time we consummate our marriage.” He sounds pleased with himself.

 “Husband,” I respond. “We will have many years to do all sorts of terrible things to one another.”

 He presses a kiss to my temple, a gesture so simple and intimate it makes me want to set myself on fire.

 

_Kiss me until I am sick of it._

I’m terrified I will never be sick of it.

 

The paring knife glints at me from the ground. I could kill him and be done with it.

But a knife between the ribs is inelegant, and lifetime is an awfully long time to get revenge.

For now, I kiss the pale planes of his chest, and admire the profile of his lips.

I love him, I hate him, I will ruin him too.

And when we burn in hell together, our ashes, our souls will be tangled together forever. 


End file.
